Chapter Text
(timeline, An year or two after Conrad's sealing.)
The battlefield was quiet now—too quiet compared to the chaos that had raged through it hours ago. The smell of blood and burnt mana still lingered faintly in the air, carried by the crisp dawn breeze. The first rays of sunlight stretched across the horizon, painting everything in gold.
Two figures remained behind after the squads had retreated—one broad-shouldered and tanned, sitting cross-legged on the grass with a sword resting lazily across his thighs, the other poised and immaculate even after battle, silver hair glinting in the morning light.
Yami drew in a lungful of the cold air, exhaling smoke from the cigarette between his lips. “Tch. Finally quiet,” he muttered, eyes narrowing at the sky.
For the longest time, neither of them spoke. Just the wind, the soft rustle of trees, the distant cry of some bird. Then, a voice—softer than the usual sharp tone Yami had gotten used to.
“Hey,” Nozel spoke, his voice almost tentative.
Yami blinked, tilting his head toward him. “Hm?” he gruffed, the single syllable rumbling from his chest.
Lavender eyes glanced his way, holding his gaze for a moment before drifting down. “You know… I have three younger siblings.”
“Yeah,” Yami replied, scratching his jaw. “Heard that somewhere. Royalty too, yeah?”
Nozel gave a soft, humorless chuckle. His posture remained straight, but something about his aura… cracked, just a little. “My youngest sister—if she joins the Silver Eagles… like me, she will not be treated right. You must know why that is too.”
Yami tilted his head, smoke curling from his lips. “No, not that. Do enlighten me, if possible.”
For a moment, the wind filled the silence again. Nozel’s fingers tightened on his grimoire, but his voice—though calm—carried something heavy. “She was blamed for our mother’s death. Her birth. Mother died when I was fourteen, and she was barely a few months old.”
Yami stilled, the words sinking in. “Ah…” His tone softened a fraction. “Is it true though?”
Nozel didn’t answer. Just the faintest flicker in his eyes, the kind of pain that had no outlet. His lips parted, then pressed shut again. There were things he couldn’t say—things bound by something stronger than pride.
Yami watched him for a beat, then sighed, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Hey. It’s okay. At least you opened up. I’m here for ya, kay?”
That made Nozel turn his head, his elegant features framed by the early light. For once, his usual frosty distance wasn’t there. His voice came quiet, almost vulnerable: “I trust you, Yami…”
Yami blinked, something tightening in his chest at the honesty in those words. He gave a crooked grin. “Glad to hear that—”
“So please,” Nozel cut in, and for the first time Yami heard desperation under the royal veneer, “when the time comes—when she is old enough… fifteen—to be a Magic Knight… take her into your squad. If you become a captain.”
That pulled a sharp laugh from Yami. “Woah—”
Nozel’s heart skipped. He feared rejection; feared that this foreigner, this uncouth alpha, would scoff at the request. But instead, Yami chuckled low, easygoing as ever.
“Sure. Why not?”
Nozel’s head snapped up, lavender eyes wide with disbelief.
“But—would she be participating in the entrance exam?”
“Royals don’t participate in the exam,” Nozel said quickly, “They are directly sent to squads.”
“Then it’s fine,” Yami replied simply, leaning back on one arm. Then, without warning, his large hand reached out, fingers sinking into the silky perfection of Nozel’s hair and ruffling it.
Normally, Nozel would have drawn his mercury in an instant—would have sliced the hand for daring such insolence. But now… he didn’t. His body tensed, then loosened, and he found himself… leaning, just slightly, into the alpha’s warm, calloused touch.
The wind picked up, carrying the scent of dawn and steel and smoke—and something else. Something unspoken, thrumming faintly between them.
-
Years later
(Timeline, a day before entrance exam. S1)
The meeting hall was empty now, the echoes of heated discussions fading as the last of the captains left through the tall, gilded doors. The scent of mana and steel lingered, mixed faintly with the tang of ink and parchment.
Yami was halfway through the corridor, cigarette dangling from his lips, when a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
“Captain Yami.”
Formal. Controlled. Yet something in it trembled.
Yami slowed, turning his head lazily, a wry grin tugging at his lips. “Captain Silva. What may I have given you the pleasure, that you came to me?” he drawled, voice low and teasing, eyes glinting like tempered steel.
Nozel stiffened at the tone, his spine straight as ever, gaze flicking subtly to the sides. No one else was there. Still, he hesitated before stepping closer, his immaculate boots silent against the polished floor.
“Do… do you remember what I said—eight and a half years ago?”
Soft words, barely above a whisper, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. A quiet desperation threaded through his usually imperious voice.
Yami took a drag, exhaled smoke lazily. “Yes, yes. Of course. Taking your lil’ sister into my squad.” He chuckled, smoke curling in the air. “Is it time? She fifteen now?”
“Yes.”
That one word was steady, but Yami caught the faint quickening of breath. The slight tension in those elegant shoulders.
“So will you?” Nozel pressed, quick, almost sharp.
“Sure,” Yami said easily, lips quirking as smoke trailed from his mouth.
Nozel exhaled—relief softening his frame, just a fraction. But then—
“But,” Yami began, his voice dipping like a blade sliding from its sheath.
Nozel froze mid-breath, heart thudding against his ribs. “…But what?” His tone held something tight—something that didn’t belong to a man like him. Nervousness.
Yami took his time. Lit another cigarette, the flare of ember glowing against the shadows. Then he looked up through the haze, his smirk slow and feral.
“Be my omega. Create a pack with me.”
A shrug, as if he’d just asked for a drink.
Nozel’s entire body stiffened, silver hair catching the dim light like spun glass. “…Huh?” His voice cracked—not out of weakness, but out of sheer shock. “Are you insane?!”
Yami grinned, sharp teeth flashing as he stepped closer, boots echoing on the marble. “Then perhaps…” He let the smoke slip past his lips as he turned, mock-casual. “…look for another squad to give your sister to.”
The words hit like a blade.
“W—wait—” The sound tore out of him before he could stop it, pride shattering like fragile glass.
Yami didn’t stop. “Fine,” came the quiet answer behind him.
He froze mid-step, grin splitting wider as he glanced over his shoulder. “Well, that’s nice! I’m glad you wanna be my omega.”
Nozel’s lavender eyes burned with fury—but not enough to mask the raw vulnerability beneath. His lips parted, words tumbling out flat, brittle: “But—”
“Yeah.” Yami cut him off, voice edged with finality, heavy with that undeniable alpha weight. “We’ll be joining bases—but not squad names. For our pack. Soon.” He blew smoke, eyes glinting. “Better start getting used to the idea, Captain.”
Nozel stood there in the empty hall, jaw tight, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths. What could he even do? His pride screamed to rip away from that smug grin, but his instincts… his instincts weren’t screaming no. They were trembling. Curling. Yielding.
And Yami knew it.